Beautiful Dream
by Nic.Lan
Summary: Though that was what America was, a fairytale or something like a beautiful dream. He was something too good for you and only a couple days later, you are torn from him like a tragedy story. US X Lithuania


I've wanted to write an APH story for a long time and I've come up with many weird pairings to write about, but since this was going to be short I thought of posting up this one first. I merely am practicing on my writing skills.

So be ready for historic inaccuracies, since I'm just going along with the original web comic and not following anything to do with history itself. I've actually never even heard of Lithuania before reading APH so I can really be counted on writing anything that is actually according to real life.

This is 2nd POV since I didn't want to have to jump from Lithuania's name and the country's name.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with the Hetalia series nor do I own its characters.

* * *

The first time you met America, your country had been stricken by poverty. People could hardly feed their families as there was no high paying jobs, you could feel the desperation and the hopelessness they felt. Your country was dying, your people were dying and you were dying. So when England proposed to you about working for his former charge, you jumped at the chance.

You remembered day you met, the sun's heat rolling of your cheeks while you sat in the white iron café chair that belonged to the American ice cream shop. You fiddled with ends up your white dress shirt with your fingertips, unused to the feeling of not wearing is military uniform like you always had. The European nation sitting across from you had a cross look of impatience, looking back and forth from his wristwatch and the area around you and him.

England pursed his lips before the look on his face evolved into a scowl. America seemed to be a bit late to their meeting and by late you meant a good 40 minutes late. Fear crept into your stomach, thinking maybe this was all just false hope and there wouldn't a light at the end of the tunnel that you were lost in.

Your worries were soon relieved when a strong voice said "Iggy!" from a distance away, a fair haired man came running towards England and you before coming to a stop between the duo, breathing a bit heavy while resting his hands on his knees. The man raised his face after he caught his breath and you were halted from any greeting you already mentally prepared and in the back of your mind, you note that your body growing warm and a loud beat pounded from your chest.

You knew in an instant that this man is the human personification for the land of the free. You stood frozen while gazing at America's face while feeling slightly light headed.

The sun came down and highlighting the man's soft cream colored skin and boyish features. You saw bright blue eyes that held great depth, blonde ruffled hair that held a certain luster and a beautiful smile that stretched across America's face with his pearly white teeth peaking from his lips. America embodied the sweet taste of liberty and opportunity that you yearned for in your time with Russia.

This single man had captured your heart with one look and you haven't even properly introduced yourself yet.

* * *

From that point on, your days are filled with warmth and acceptance. Nothing you had ever felt before in the cold abode of Russia, where you lived your days in fear of what may come.

You could hardly remember those days when things were always so bleak while you were with America. He had only caught your eyes before in passing though now you understood why he so great.

When he spoke, he spoke with strong conviction and fire that you would hang off his every word while listening to the way his tone of voice carried off the feeling of how everything would be alright in end and you honestly believed that. He made the impossible possible, dreams were no longer dreams in the presence of Alfred F. Jones and in return for listening to you, he made time in his busy schedule for what little you had to say.

There were the piercing blue eyes that held everything in an innocent and curious regard, so unlike the cold eyes of Russia that scanned over the area around him that left that made the hairs at the back of your neck stand and shivers run down your spine. When America's eyes locked on to yours, you felt like the cliché of every romance novel created, you felt the rest of the world grow quiet in the background while only you and him were there to bask in the moment.

There were the heartfelt hugs in the morning before his job that you returned; your wrapped around him tightly while you had thought to yourself that you could remain in his embrace for hours though he always pulled away in just a few seconds and dashed off to work. You would miss his presence and wish he was there.

While what had really won you over was the grin that was usually present on America's lips. It was that infectious beam that you could not help, but return. He wore every morning and every evening while he prattled on about how his new plan would have everyone recognize him as a hero. He wore it while he ate and complimented the food you made in comparison to his days with England. You took the praise to heart because you know he meant the flattering remark. It was that smile that made you secure and wanted; it left with you with such great emotions that could not be described in words alone.

Though if you had to, you might describe him as the spark that lit your world of dry wood on fire. He was filled with passion and heat that left nothing untouched without his influence. Even the days after you parted, he stayed with you in your heart.

* * *

You had dreams of the life you were once living while residing with America, you dreamed of a barren land and a lonely manor whose residents never knew what relief was because you and the other Baltic nations lived in fear. When you awoke from those dreams, your body would be covered from head to toe in cold sweat and shivers that practically made way to your bones.

America must have had a special sense for those sorts of things because he is always the one that wakes you before you fell too deep into the land of sleep. He would stay by your side until you're breathing normally again while whispering sweet comfort words in you ear, never asking a question and just smiles at you with understanding.

You never dream of America though, you have no need to because every day you spend with him is like a dream. It would be something you looked forward to every morning.

* * *

There would be a point where your fondness would start to run deeper and before you realized it, you loved him.

Such things like love were not easy to come by in the many years that you have lived; such things that like love were fleeting. You had come across it only so many times during that period and it took you awhile to figure out this feeling that left you so warm inside.

The reason why was because there wasn't many experiences to compare to.

There was Belarus of course, the beautiful woman that was shrouded in the cold and far of out of reach from your touch. You had, in what could only be described as, a crush on her. You admired the pretty features on her face and the deep loyalty she held towards her brother. Such devotion she had shown though you knew it was futile to every hope that such love she held would ever be towards you.

Though at some point, you think you might have loved Russia too. Or maybe that was a touch of Stockholm syndrome, though you at some point you cared for the large nation. You could see the loneliness and desperation that lay underneath the psychotic man's exterior. While he was to be feared, he could also pitied and after staying with him so long, you could either have hated him or loved him. You knew for a certain fact that you had also hated him at one point or another because any love you may have felt was overshadowed by the memories of the pain he had caused you and those around you. You just knew you felt something strong towards the larger man that wished to dominate the world, though you would preferred it to be loved because Russia is already hated as it is.

Then there was Poland, you certainly cared for the selfish man also. Why else would you try ensuring his safety when Russia was plotting something against him? If Russia had found out, there was only a future of blood and beatings ahead of you though you took the chance because Poland was someone important to you, no matter how irresponsible and flippant he may be. You shared a history together when you were very young and you fought together. You had each others backs and trusted one another, that would never change.

You had cared for all of them, but you never felt something as strongly as you did with America, not even with all of them combined. You liked to think that you never knew the definition of being alive before meeting America. All those days before was simply just drifting around while waiting for destiny to take pity to you. Maybe it was fate that turned America into a drug to you, once you had a taste of him, you couldn't even properly think without him.

* * *

Nonetheless, those happy days came to a halt when America's jubilee came crashing down. He suffered from a great depression because the stalk market he put so much work into had crashed. America from then on start drink himself into a dazed state. You would always watch and try to make sure that America wouldn't venture too far into the alcohol. There was one time when America was drunk that had burned itself into your memories. Not many people knew this, but America sometimes liked to dance while he was intoxicated. He wouldn't dance his usual slick moves that he showed at parties or clubs, he slow danced and with you as his partner.

With the slow tune playing in the background that America had set up earlier, America and you sway from side to side. It takes a couple tries and some unsteady feet work, but you both manage to pull it off without him stumbling too much.

You loosely wrapped you arms around his neck and rested your head against his chest, taking in the heat that seeped through his shirt against your cheek. He had his large arms around your waist and you can't help, but feel special. You close your eyes and just tried to savor the moment as he lays his head on top of yours. You couldn't see his face or expression, though you had idly wondered what it looked like. You wondered if he felt the same thing you felt. Your feet shuffle against each other, turning around and around so many times that you've lost count.

He breathes evenly; in and out, in and out. You hear him quietly whisper over and over again that he loves you, though you can't help, but wonder if its because the alcohol he consumed though you say it back to him every single time; or was it him that was whispering back the sweet hush sounds to you? You don't remember who said it first, but you know that you mean all of yours.

Your not a horrible person and you know its bad to take advantage of America's influenced state, but you already pressed your lips against America's. He let out a sigh against your mouth and chuckled softly before kissing you back without hesitance. You couldn't help, but selfishly wish that the moment would last forever though only things like that happen in fairy tales. Though that was what America was, a fairytale or something like a beautiful dream. He was something too good for you and only a couple days later, you are torn from him like a tragedy story.

The depression is effecting him greatly and he could no longer employ you and you knew this the moment Russia arrives at America's door. Russia had come to crush the beautiful dream you were having and had come to transition you into a more harsh reality though you try to deny it by asking America himself. America can't meet your eyes and the smile you adore no longer is displayed on his face. His facial expression is guilt ridden and the distress he must have been feeling has sucked all the color from you view. All you see is America looking helpless before Russia drags you away. That is the last image you keep of him in your mind for a long time though you're slightly distraught over the betrayal, you know its not his fault.

Though you now served Russia again, you start to dream at night about the grand house that America owned. You dream of slow dancing and warmth along with sincere embraces and hushed words of I love yous. You dream of finally seeing America again and meeting him with a smile he would surely return.


End file.
